


Trolley Ethics

by balimaria



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Daisy is a good bro, Each One Gets Slightly More Painful (Sorry), Eyepocalypse, F in the chat for Jon, Gen, Hunt Avatar Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner Are Best Friends, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Needs a Hug, Lots and Lots of Eyes, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Mostly in S4 though, Non-Sexual Bondage, POV Daisy Tonner, Panic Attacks, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05, The World Needs More Monster!Jon so I am Here to Supply, They Look Out For Eachother, Transformation, and he gets one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balimaria/pseuds/balimaria
Summary: 5 times Daisy helped Jon stay human, and 1 time Jon helped her.**Written pre-MAG 176**
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 13
Kudos: 212





	Trolley Ethics

**Author's Note:**

> Had sudden inspiration for some monster qpr so here we are. enjoy :0

i.

It’s a normal day, or at least as normal as a day gets in the Magnus Institute. Daisy’s reading- not in a chair, though. The floors are just barely more comfortable than the chairs here, so she’s seated against a wall instead. 

Sometimes, moments like this one felt so insignificant. Just a drop of peace in an ocean of trauma and fear. But right now, she was content enough just to zone out into her escapism. The gnawing hunger in the back of her mind was deadened, her thoughts of _what’s next_ and _how soon_ pushed aside. 

Daisy was surprised to find that it felt… nice. Just sitting. Being alone in a good way, not in a Martin way.

Daisy frowned at herself. _Don't be rude,_ she chided.

Daisy sighed and flipped a page with her scarred hand. It wasn’t really a great book. A supposed grand mystery that was more of the dull, try-hard type. But that was fine. Amazing, even- since it wasn’t being crushed beneath infinite mud and dirt and sand and knowing that there was the extremely likely possibility that you'd be stuck there forever.

So...things had been going good -which is to say nothing bad was happening- when Jon had walked by. Normally, Daisy wouldn’t see this as unusual. People walked. Slightly less human people walked as well. No need to be jumpy.

It was the _way_ he was walking that concerned her. Like someone was about to jump out from behind the shelves and shank him. Like he had done something, and was waiting for the ball to drop.

Daisy’s suspicion increased tenfold when she noticed that their archivist looked like he’d actually slept for once. 

“Hey, Jon?” she called, trying to be casual. “Could you come help me with something?”

Jon froze like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked as if he might just book it- but he turned and walked over nonetheless.

“What is it?” he said, failing to hide the quiver in his voice.

Daisy tried to school her expression into something more… comforting. It was harder than she’d like.

“Jon,” she said gently. “I know.”

Jon’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded immediately. “I just- I-”

“It’s okay.”

He blinked. “What?”

Daisy smiled slightly. “It’s okay that you took someone’s statement, Jon. Or at least it will be. No one gets it in one go. Now- you’re going to take one of these books, have a sit down, and actually relax for a bit. And tomorrow, you’ll try again.”

=====

Daisy made it her goal to take Jon out for a walk the next day. Nothing like a little fresh air to stop thinking about your eldritch fear-god fueled trauma addiction. Jon was still as flighty as ever, though- so she decided to guide him somewhere where there were no tasty people about.

That turned out to be an abandoned parking lot. It wasn’t actually that unpleasant, really. The asphalt sparkled in the sun like ocean waves. And while the tary smell of it baking in the heat wasn’t great, the way the cottonwood puffs tumbled across the stone was enough to accommodate.

Jon relaxed a bit as they sat down together. For the first three minutes they were content to just sit, listening to the ruckus of London behind them. 

“I used to smoke, you know,” Jon commented, breaking the silence.

Daisy stared at Jon lazily. “Really?” she said.

“Yeah.”

He stared out across the lot, his eyes seeming to absorb every minute detail to file away for later. Which, in hindsight, they probably were.

“It’s not like this. In some ways, at least,” he paused for a moment, collecting himself. “Once you manage to stop for long enough, the craving goes away. But with this… it’s always there, gnawing at me. It hurts mentally and it hurts physically, but the worst thing is the guilt. Knowing that people are hurt because of what I’ve done and yet wanting nothing more than to just do it again.”

Daisy let that sink in, though it wasn’t really something she hadn’t already known. The Hunt and the Beholding may be different entities, but the desire was the same.

“Before the Buried,” she began. “I used to kill people. Not just monsters. People who I thought deserved it. And… I don’t mean to minimize what you’re going through or what you’re doing… but-” Daisy huffed out a laugh. “At least yours don’t end up dead.”

Jon was silent for a spell. 

“I don’t know if endless nightmares are really a whole lot better,” he muttered.

Daisy punched him lightly. “Maybe,” she hummed. “But I know I’d rather have endless nightmares than you be dead.”

Jon smiled. Just a little, but he smiled.

“Thanks, Daisy. I’m… I’m glad you’re…”

Jon trailed off for a minute, something flashing in his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re not dead either.”

And for a moment it was like being back in the Buried- but in a good way. Just knowing that no matter how much shit is hovering over you, at least there’s someone there to share it with. Daisy looked up at Jon, seeing the slight crinkle in his eyes- and she knew he was thinking the same thing as well.

ii.

Daisy stood with a groan, squeezing through the overflowing shelves of the main archives. There wasn’t much of anything to do today, so might as well see what the rest of the crew was up to. Not like there was anything better in this hellhole.

One hand on the wall to keep herself steady, Daisy cautiously made her way down the hall. But not a second in, her body slowed at the realization that something was… off. She blinked, racking her thoughts for what it could be.

Eventually, she realized. The hall was near dead silent, only the buzz of cheap fluorescent lights to fill the air. No statements slipping from beneath the door frame. No rustling papers. No whir of the tape recorder. 

Daisy moved as fast as her atrophied muscles would allow. Not even bothering to knock, she pushed the door open with a squeal. 

Jon was still there, sitting in his office chair just like she’d left him last time. But he was uncharacteristically still- one hand knotted tight in his hair, the other sealed around his mouth. His knuckles were white with the tension. Daisy frowned, taking a cautious step inside. Jon jumped at the sound of her boots against the wood. His eyes were blown even wider than before, an all too familiar look gleaming inside.

Daisy sighed, then moved to guide Jon off his chair and onto the floor. He did so without protest, his body still wound tight as a spring.

She sat in front of him, taking both his hands in her own. Jon stared into her eyes, a quiet pleading in the curve of his mouth.

“Jon,” Daisy murmured. “It’s okay. Listen to the quiet, alright? Listen.”

It took a long time. Longer than it normally did, which concerned her. But eventually, the tension seeped from Jon’s body, and he let his head loll against the wall in exhaustion.

“Sorry,” he rasped.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “You’d do the same for me.”

Daisy paused for a moment, giving them both a moment of peace.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

A sigh escaped from between Jon’s teeth. “Yeah,” he said.

Daisy let him take his time. Pushing wouldn’t do them any good.

“There’s a man, up in research,” he said finally. “He has a statement about the Vast. I-” he paused to swallow briefly. “It was just so sudden. Like- like a tsunami, or something. It was just… everywhere. I couldn’t get away from the _knowing,_ no matter what I did. I wanted it so _badly,_ and it just took everything in me not to go up there and _tear it out of him-”_

Jon’s voice cracked, cutting him off for a moment.

“It was worse than ever,” he continued quietly. “I don’t _want_ to want this, but I can’t stop. And s-someday… I’m not going to be able to take it anymore, like- at all. I just know it.”

“Do you Know that?” Daisy replied calmly.

Jon blinked. “W-well, no. But I don’t really need to.”

Daisy nodded. “Fair enough. But I think you aren’t giving yourself enough credit.”

He turned to look at her. Jon’s eyes were so different now. A deep, vibrant, _knowing_ green. Inhuman. But she didn’t say that out loud.

“You’ve made it this far, haven’t you? Even when you’ve slipped before,” she said. “I know Basira gives you a hard time of it, but she doesn’t understand what it’s like. She’s not an avatar. I am, and so are you. _I_ understand. So… if we have to struggle with this, at least we can do it together, right?”

Jon’s mouth parted, as if she’d never told him that before. 

“Can you stay with me, Daisy?” he asked after a pause, voice trembling. “I-I don’t… I don’t know if I…”

Daisy put up a hand to stop him. “It’s okay, Jon. I’ll stay as long as you need.”

She sat with him until he fell asleep. She definitely wasn’t strong enough to carry him to the cot, but she could at least do the next best thing.

Daisy returned to Jon’s office with a cotton blanket in hand. Gently enough as to not wake him, she tucked it around Jon’s sleeping form.

It was a little weird, but she stood and watched him for awhile. Jon looked a lot different when he was sleeping. Younger, almost. 

Happier.

iii.

The next week came and passed without incident, unusually enough. No horrible flesh-creatures. No doors that hurt to look at. No cursed books or deadly artifacts. It almost felt like a normal job. Over seven days of it, too.

Of course Daisy just had to jinx it.

A crash from the hall jolted her out of her exercises. It sounded like someone had knocked one of the shelves over again. Vaguely concerned, Daisy made her way towards the hall.

Basira rounded the corner, a taser hastily grasped in her hands.

“What’s happening?” she huffed.

Daisy shrugged. “Dunno. Was gonna go find out. Wanna come?”

Basira nodded, and they walked side by side until they came to the door of Jon’s office. Daisy knocked- no reply. Basira gave her a look.

“Basira, I want you to stay out here, okay?” she requested.

Basira looked affronted. “What? But what if you get hurt?”

Quirking her lips reassuringly, she replied, “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. You’ll only make him… ah, nervous.”

Basira scowled, but let Daisy take the doorknob.

When she stepped inside, the first thing she saw was the veritable landslide of statements scattered across the floor. The next thing she saw was Jon- he was on his hands and knees, a palm pressed hard against his forehead. Static was whining from somewhere in his general area.

“Jon?” she called, trying her best not to startle him. He jumped anyways, of course, scrambling to his feet in a mess of loose paper. 

“Jon, could you look at me?” she requested.

A groan, and a shake of his head. He was hunched over in pain, and Daisy began to feel her concern grow.

“Can I touch you, Jon?” repeated use of names can help reassure people in stress. Daisy took full advantage of it.

She waited for Jon’s response, and eventually he nodded.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she pressed down, trying to let the weight ground him. Every muscle in Jon’s body was pulled taut, and he still wouldn’t look at her.

Daisy waited for him to calm down a bit before speaking again.

“Jon, it’s okay. Whatever’s happening, I won't hurt you. Just listen to the quiet, okay? You’re gonna be alright.”

A tear dripped onto the carpet. Then two. Then four. Finally, Jon twisted his head around to stare at her. His unruly hair was plastered to his face, but that didn’t hide the obvious.

Two half-moon eyes sat beneath his regular pair , as watery and bloodshot as their counterparts. Jon was trying to say something, but he couldn’t seem to push it past his throat. The eyes watched.

Daisy’s mouth parted. She was admittedly a little unsettled by Jon’s new… additions, but letting that show would only make things worse. So instead she just opened her arms, letting Jon fall into a hug like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted. She rubbed his back in comforting circles as his tears soaked into her shirt.

 _“It hurts,”_ he finally choked out. “ _Gods,_ Daisy, I’m so hungry… It _hurts._ ”

Jons fingers tightened around her biceps. Daisy whispered quiet reassurances into his ear, letting him pour out all the fear caught up in his throat.

Daisy wondered vaguely if anyone had ever hugged Jon before, what with the way he was clutching at her shirt. Depressingly, it wouldn’t have surprised her.

Another minute, and he was still. Not calm-still- he was still coiled tight. But something had given him pause. Daisy pulled away, bearing witness to the _hunger_ in his eyes. It blocked out everything else in a way she’d never seen before.

She was scared, she realized. Scared of Jon.

But she pushed it down. They needed each other. She wouldn’t be afraid of him.

 _”Daisy,”_ Jon hissed, nearly too quiet for her to hear. The desperate hunger remained in all four eyes. _”Do something._ Please, I can’t- I want it. I **_need..._** ”

Jon snapped his mouth shut, slapping both hands over it for extra measure. But the static of compulsion remained in the air.

 _”Help,”_ he choked out, his body trembling with the effort of resistance.

Daisy didn’t know what to do. She always tried her best to appear put together, but now… now, she just didn’t know. Words wouldn’t help now, he was too far gone-

No. She wouldn’t think like that. Desperately, she patted herself down for anything she could use. Pencil. Coins. Notepad. _Useless._

A thought crossed her mind, and she took a swift glance at the door to the hall.

“Jon,” she whispered. “Will you be okay if I leave you for a second?”

He nodded slowly.

As swiftly as she could, Daisy eased the door open.

“Basira!” she hissed. Said women whirled around, annoyance flashing briefly in her face.

“What?” she hissed back. “Are you okay?”

Daisy nodded. “I need your handcuffs.”

Basira blinked slowly. But they’d learned to trust each other over the years, so she handed over the cuffs without question.

Hurrying back to the trembling figure on the floor, Daisy crouched down. 

“Will these work?” she asked.

Jon looked up, his lower pair of eyes so wide that the upper were nearly shut. He observed the metal links with a kind of detached curiosity, before nodding.

“I’ll need your wrists, Jon,”

It took him a second. But Jon managed to pull his hands away without letting the compulsion slip through. Daisy positioned herself behind him, snapping one cuff onto his left wrist and then looping the chain around the leg of his desk. Then she clicked the other cuff on, binding him to the furniture. 

Daisy scooted back, allowing herself to look at her handiwork. Jon was breathing a little more evenly now, but she could still feel the static piling up in his lungs.

“Is that okay? Too tight?”

“No,” he rasped. “Thank you. But you still- I can’t keep- you have a s-”

Jon grit his teeth together, squeezing all his eyes shut.

“Please, Daisy. You have to get _out._ ”

After a moment, Daisy nodded.

“I’ll come check on you in twenty minutes, okay, Jon?”

Jon didn’t say anything, but she made her way out anyways.

“You’re gonna be okay, Jon. I promise,” she said as she slipped the door shut. “I promise.”

Twenty minutes came and went agonizingly slow. Her worry for Jon kept piling up in her chest until it was suffocating. If he really was starting to fully slip, then what could she do? She was just one person, and not a very good one at that. She was trained in violence and savagery, not comfort. She did her best, sure, but was it enough?

But despite her thoughts, twenty minutes passed. She stood and gave Jon’s door a knock.

His quiet “come in,” managed to put a small smile on her lips. Jon still doesn’t look great, though Daisy isn’t sure if any of them have looked that great for months now, so it isn’t too concerning. But he’s managed to overcome the hunger on his own. Daisy’s… proud of him, in a way.

She uncuffs him. They don’t talk. They don’t need to. A tape recorder appears and Jon starts reading a statement. Daisy stands in the corner and half listens, partially lost in thought.

For now, It’s okay.

iv.

“I’m telling you, Daisy! He’s too dangerous! You’ve seen better than anyone how he’s been acting! How he’s _changing!_ This needs to happen!”

Daisy doesn’t allow her face to morph into anything other than stern determination. “I will not let you kill him, Basira,” she growled. “It’s wrong.”

Basira scoffed, folding her arms. “You weren’t so concerned with right or wrong before, were you?”

Daisy couldn’t help but flinch. The chill in Basira’s eyes faded a little.

“...Too far?” she asked. Daisy nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Basira said. But the tension lingered.

“I won’t let you kill him,” Daisy repeated after a pause. Basira scowled again.

“Why not?” she hissed, throwing her hands in the air. “I get it, Daisy. I don’t _want_ to kill anyone, much less Jon, but do you realize how many people we could save if we got rid of him?”

Daisy stared deep into Basira’s eyes, trying to pin her down. “You could’ve saved dozens if you’d killed me,” she said, allowing no emotion to pervade her voice.

Basira was silent. Daisy could tell that she’d gotten through to her, however reluctantly. 

“Fine,” she said softly. “But I’m keeping an eye on him.”

Basira turned and walked away without another word. Daisy let her go, knowing she’d done the best she could. Once she’d rounded the corner, Daisy turned on her heel and made her way to Jon’s office. She’d do well to check on him after... that. They’d spoken softly enough, but Daisy knew that wouldn’t make a difference.

Daisy eased open the door, clearing her throat to make her presence known. Jon was at his desk, staring at the wall. He continued to do so even as she stepped inside.

“Jon?” she called. Four piercing irises flitted to stare at her. He looked away again after a moment.

“I heard,” he murmured after a pause. “Well, I didn’t hear. I, uh… Saw. But-”

Daisy cut him off there and then. “I don’t want to hear it. You deserve to live, Jon. I’m not going to let Basira hurt you. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

Jon clenched his fists. “But she’s _right,_ Daisy. I’m a danger, a _monster-”_

“What did I just say?” she snapped. “You’re as human as you act, Jon, no matter how many eyes you’ve got. And from what I’ve seen, that’s pretty human. You’re a good person, and no one, not me or Basira or _anyone-_ is going to kill you.”

Jon was deathly silent. His eyes bored into the table, and Daisy half expected the thing to start smoking. Half-moon marks were left where he’d dug his fingernails into his skin.

Static started building in Daisy’s ears. It felt like she was at high altitude, waiting for the moment her ears would pop. The pressure grew and grew, and- despite herself- Daisy started backing away.

Jon’s cheeks were wet. Tears pooled in the nicks of his scars, reflecting the green glow of his eyes. In an uncharacteristic burst of aggression, he bared his teeth in a snarl.

“You don’t understand!” he yelled, slamming his fists onto the desk. “I’ve already hurt people! You know it! I see them in my dreams every night and I do nothing to stop it! I _want_ to hurt people, Daisy! It feels _good!”_

The static in her ears screeched and popped with distortion. The room felt like it was trembling. 

Realizing suddenly that she had to _do_ something, Daisy stepped over the mess of boxes on the floor and over to Jon’s trembling form. The closer she got the more the static grew, until it was nearly deafening. She put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, then immediately pulled it back as her vision whited. He opened his mouth and a distorted mess of sobs and cries intermingled with static poured out. She needed to start talking, _now._

“Jon,” Daisy consoled. “You’ve been through a lot, and I’m sorry you feel so horrible about it. But you aren’t your mistakes. You care about me, and you care about Martin and even Basira. You would never want to want to hurt people, and that means you _care._ You don’t deserve to be hurt- much less killed- and you never will.”

Abruptly the static cut off, leaving only a faint ringing in her ears. Jon had collapsed on the desk, his head lying despondently in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry you have to keep doing this for me. You don’t deserve this.”

Daisy placed her hand on Jon’s bony shoulder. “You’ve done the same for me countless times. You brought me out of the Buried, for fuck’s sake!” she growled. “I think you’ve met me more than halfway.”

Arms wrapped around her, surprisingly warm. The room was comfortably silent, only their breath to fill the air.

Daisy hugged him back for the second time that week. Gods knew he needed it.

v.

The hunters fled when they saw him. Who wouldn’t, really? Spectral wings flashed blindingly bright. Eyes of deepest green opening and closing and watching and knowing all around his head. It was like some kind of halo. Some kind of ungodly, horrible, fear halo. 

There were eyes on his body, too. On the backs of his hands, on his neck, on his arms. So many on his face Daisy wasn’t quite sure which were the originals. 

Static hummed and popped, rolling over every other noise in a cacophony of crackling and distortion. The hunters fled. She stayed.

Daisy could feel the Hunt dragging her down. She’d already given herself up to fight Julia and Trevor. They had a few nasty bites and cuts, courtesy of herself. 

But she wouldn’t let it fully take her until she knew Jon was… going to be okay.

“Jon!” she called, through sharp and gritted teeth. 

He turned to face her, and Daisy nearly collapsed at the noise that filled her ears. Bits and flashes of statements past all crammed into a tidal wave of foaming, consuming static. 

“Don’t listen to the blood,” she hissed, even as claws tore through her fingers and fur crawled up her arm. “Listen to the quiet. Listen to the quiet.”

 **”Why?”** a hundred recordings of a hundred voices said. 

“Because I care about you.”

Eyes opened in front of her face. Whispers permeated the ocean of static, just barely quiet enough not to be heard.

“And,” she huffed out, “Martin still needs you.”

The static quieted. The eyes closed. The wings faded away.

Daisy squeezed her own eyes shut, letting out the breath she was holding. She’d done her best, and that would have to be good enough.

Even as the Hunt tore through her veins and filled her mind with blood, she could still hear his voice, and his hand in hers.

 _”I’ll be back for you,”_ he said. _”I promise.”_

Then he was gone, and so was Daisy.

+i.

She rounded a corner, digging her claws deep into the earth to propel herself around it. The figure in front of her screamed as she managed to sink her fangs into its ankle. It fell, but she let it stand. The hunt wasn’t over. The hunt was never over. She could tear out its heart as many times as she pleased and it would keep running. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

She howled up at the watching sky, letting the others know that this one was _hers._

It limped away as quickly as it could. She sat and watched, then slunk away into the foliage. She’d let it think it was alone, then trace it by scent. It would be so afraid and she’d revel in its fear just as much as she did in the adrenaline pumping through her veins- it didn’t stop now. It never ran out. She never became tired and she never lost her breath and her footing was always sure. 

She was the hunter. _She_ was the hunter. And maybe if she thought it enough she could ignore the gleam of eyes watching her from the gap in the brush.

A rustling caught her attention. She rose, keeping her stance wide, ready for the chase.

But what emerged wasn’t prey. That disappointed her- but the Eye ruled all. And if it had claimed these two, then there wasn’t much to do but let them pass.

She growled, but didn’t move. Even if she couldn’t hunt them, she wouldn’t flee like one of those useless chunks of flesh and terror.

They were talking to each other. Something in the cadence was vaguely familiar, but she shook it off. There was her and the hunt and the prey. Nothing else.

Daisy growled as the Eye-claimed one approached her. Maybe she’d just give it a bite to remember her by. That wasn’t really hunting them.

It was saying something again. Over and over, like words had any meaning anymore.

She huffed. Learn to bark like something normal and maybe she’d listen. She bared her teeth, letting it know that if it got any closer she’d take the consequences of hurting it.

But it just kept looking at her, like it wasn’t scared or anything. Its eyes were like the sky, in a more literal sense than before.

Before. Before. What before? There was her and the hunt and the prey. Nothing else.

It touched her, and she jerked backwards. It didn’t feel like what she hunted. Its skin was dry and only a little warm.

The other one approached her too, looking a little more unnerved than its friend. She smiled viciously. Good.

And then it touched her too. The nerve.

She lunged at him, planning to maybe take a finger or two off. Nothing big, thank you very much.

Mid-leap, static crescendoed in her ears, turning her joints to lead. She fell, earth pluming around her. It hurt hurt hurt and hunters weren’t supposed to be hurt but what if what if what if-

She listened to what it was saying.

_“Don’t hurt him.”_

_“Friends.”_

_“Daisy.”_

_“Listen to the quiet.”_

He touched her again, and she didn’t move away. A whine emerged from her throat. It was a sound she’d never made before.

_”Don’t listen to the blood. Listen to the quiet.”_

Daisy didn’t really know what happened next. There were colors and pain and dirt against her skin and it was much too cold without her fur and she felt so _small-_

“It’s alright,” Jon said. “You’re safe now.”

Daisy didn’t believe him, but she felt better anyways.

=====

They made it to a stretch of land in between the fears. It reminded her of pictures of salt flats she’d seen. The earth was scorched and cracked, dead and empty except for the occasional straggling tree, though even that was rare. The air was dry and empty and every footstep seemed too loud. They stopped to take a break, and it was like Daisy had just come out of the buried again. Weak and clumsy and trembling and covered head to toe in dirt.

Jon placed a hand on her shoulder, just like she’d done for him before. And there was a before, now. Full of fear but also more- Jon and Basira and Martin and Melanie and the billions of people just living and trying their best to be happy.

Daisy wanted to go back. Even if before was only really better in image, at least there was love  
there. At least there was the desire to do better, and to try again until it was.

Maybe they could turn it back. Maybe they couldn’t. Either way, they’d try. She would try.

“Daisy,” Jon said. Her own name felt rough on her ears. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She couldn’t talk. The Hunt had decided to make her feel all those howls and screeches and snarls and-

Daisy shook her head. She was out. She was with Jon and Martin, who were boyfriends (finally.) They were going to the Panopticon to stop Jonah Magnus.

“I promised I’d come back for you, Daisy.”

She listened, but her mind was back at the day they’d spent at that stupid parking lot.

“Daisy?”

Daisy looked into his eyes. It was hard, since his eyes were... more, now. But she looked.

And then she hugged him, because she was tired and frankly didn’t want to put in the effort to appear dignified during an apocalypse. So she let the tears slide down her cheeks unbidden. Martin stood awkwardly off to the side, until she glared at him enough that he joined in.

It was warm. Not warm like the adrenaline in her veins or the hot breath of her prey or the humidity clotting the air. Warm like a shower after being out in the rain. Warm like a cup of your favorite tea. Warm like asphalt in the sun, like three words that only mean more the more you say them, like a promise to come back

Warm like a friend telling you it’s okay. You’re okay. You’ll be okay.


End file.
